There are Jomsvikings yet living

Here is a woodcut illustration of the execution of the Jomsvikings captured in the Battle of Horundarfjord (Hjorunga Bay) in A.D. 986. Fram the First is on a sentimental journey, dreaming and drifting, recalling the old days, and suggested we do a post about this event as a reminder.

The Old Norse had their own brand of humor

Warfare has come and gone since before history was recorded, and to study those times reveals much about the nature of the societies which conducted it. Today, students, we will briefly examine one bloody encounter that took place slightly more than a thousand years ago: The Battle of Horundarfjord, in A.D. 986.

The Old Scandinavians often fought each other when there was profit to be made. In this instance, Earl Hakon, the ruler of most of Norway, crushed an invading fleet of Danes. No fewer than five Icelandic "skalds" (storytellers/poets) took part in the clash, so the battle was well "reported" in the news of the day.

This was a major battle that was fought aboard ships in a fjord. To add to the mystique of this engagement, a storm broke out in the midst of it, and the combatants were pelted with large hailstones. The Norwegian force numbered 150 ships, while the invading Danes had 60. Some among the invaders were "Jomsvikings," members of a warrior community who lived a Spartan-style life in a fortress named Jomsborg. Women and children were not permitted in Jomsborg, and life centered round daily preparation for combat. They were, in reality, 10th Century mercenaries.

The heavily outnumbered invaders lost the fray. This is a portion of one story of the aftermath of the battle when 30 Jomsvikings (the number varies by the source) who had been taken alive were brought up for summary execution. As one author put it, ".... this story gives us men who know how to die. They look death unflinchingly in the eye and with a jest on their lips. They love life, but would not be able to survive the taunt of having begged for it .... It would be difficult to cite in world literature a parallel to that unforgettable scene:"

Eighteen (again, the number varies by storyteller) already had been executed by a Norwegian lord named Thorkel Leira, through decapitation with his sword (or axe, depending on the version read), when this event took place:

Then there was brought up a young man whose hair was long and golden yellow like silk. Thorkel asked the same question (he had of the men he already had slain), "What do you think about dying?"

The young man said: "I have lived the best part of my life. I do not care to live after those who have died here. But I want to be led to the slaughter not by a slave but rather by a man not lower than you; nor will such a one be hard to find -- and let him hold my hair away from head so that my hair will not become bloodstained."

A man from Earl Hakon's bodyguard stepped forward and wound the long hair around his hands. Thorkel slammed down with his sword, and at that moment the young man jerked away his head, and the blow fell on the arms of the one holding his hair and cut them off at the elbow.

The young man leapt up and said: "Whose hands are in my hair?"

Earl Hakon said: "A great mischief has been done. Kill that man at once, and also all the others who are left, because these men are too unmanageable to guard against.”

Earl Eirik (Hakon's son) interrupted and said: "Let us first find out who they are. What is your name, young man?"

To which, the young man replied: "They call me Sigurth. Not yet are all Jomsvikings dead."

Earl Eirik asked: "Whose son are you?"

The young man answered: "I am said to be the son of Bui."

(Bui was one of three chieftains who led the Jomsvikings. When both his hands were severed by a sword stroke during the battle, he took a chest of his personal treasures in his arms and jumped into the sea.)

Earl Eirik said: "You are truly likely to be the son of Bui. How old a man are you?"

The young man replied: "If I live through this one, I shall be eighteen years."

Earl Eirik then said: "You shall. Would you have quarter?"

The young man replied: "That depends on who offers it."

Earl Eirik answered: "He offers, who has the authority to do so -- Earl Eirik."

The young man said: "I would, if you give it to all of us who yet live."

Earl Eirik said: "Release them all from the rope," and accepted them into his personal bodyguards.

Eighteen of the captured had been killed and twelve received quarter. To which, the young man, Sigurth, said to be the son of Bui, noted: "There are Jomsvikings yet living."

This tale, I think, opens a doorway to any number of fascinating questions regarding sociological attributes (or detriments), and about life and death, now and then, particularly from a male viewpoint. Those executed before the young man also posed philosophical or practical thoughts before they were killed. The young man was the eleventh in the line. I like the number, and this more-or-less is the end of the event. The slain Jomsvikings had equally interesting words to say, but the length of the entire piece prohibits running it.

The final thought: No matter who you are or where you are, Fram the First advises to study your origins, and to learn from them.

London, courtly love & another pair

And, before reaching the Seine, there was this.

Cruising the Thames with Fram the First ....

As I promised yesterday, I have delved further into the previously unpublished travel journals of Fram the First. And, what can I say? His travels began as a bad boy. His journals indicate that he was among the rampaging hordes that swept into Britain before moving along and searching for greener pastures and brighter gold in lands to the south.

By all indications, Fram the First did enjoy cruising on the Thames and bobbing in and out of coastal towns, as well. He thought the folk friendly, the girls beautiful and the ale adequate. He did, however, mention in his journal that he preferred traditional, realistic art to the modernistic stuff finding its way into the Saatchi Gallery in London town.

My assumption is that had Fram the First been heard of beyond his 27th year, he would have grown to enjoy art ranging from blue girls to green girls. There might be more to be told regarding Fram the First's frantic existence. Apparently, he did make one earlier, civilian trip in, about and around the Continent, however, he was traveling with tintype camera gear during those voyages, which makes it difficult to relay the sights he saw.

There also exists a legend that he was among the first Norsemen to arrive in present-day Minnesota. I shall check into it.

The lover is bewildered, helpless ....

I became wrapped up in the notion of romance a few days ago, even to the point where I began studying it again in literary terms. (What can I say? English majors, i.e., witless fools.) By study, I mean examining how writers and literary movements over the centuries have viewed romance and recorded it. I have discovered that I probably am a "courtly love" man. A brief description:

"According to the system, falling in love is accompanied by great emotional disturbances; the lover is bewildered, helpless, tortured by mental and physical pain ... He agonizes over his condition and indulges in endless self-questioning and reflections on the nature of love and his own wretched state. His condition improves when he is accepted, and he is inspired by his love to great deeds. He and his lady pledge ... and must remain faithful in spite of all obstacles ... C.S. Lewis has made a detailed study of courtly love in 'The Allegory of Love'."

I did not stop there. I continued by adding historical study of romance to the mix. In this instance, I was thinking primarily in terms of how my Scandinavian ancestors viewed it. From the "The Poetic Edda," specifically within the "Hovamol -- The Ballad of the High One:"

"Soft words shall he speak and wealth shall he offer
Who longs for a maiden's love,
And the beauty praise of the maiden bring;
He wins whose wooing is best."

and this:

"The head alone knows what dwells near the heart,
A man knows his mind alone;
No sickness is worse to one who is wise
Than to lack the longed-for joy."

and one more:

"Fault with another let no man find
For what touches many a man;
Wise men oft into witless fools
Are made by mighty love."

Technology races forward, but wisdom and knowledge were born long before any of us. It is there to assist us if we wish to look for it. No date can be ascribed to the "Hovamol" but, undoubtedly, parts of it are relics of ancient Germanic poetry.

There are women who make me shake in my boots, but .... time to stop writing and to resume my studies before I get any deeper into trouble. To be continued ....

Night run & the magic girl ....

Here are two more true tales told in column form rather than in paragraph form. This is sort of fun.

Night run ....

I miss seeing the stars at night
beneath clean, clear, country skies,
while running along a graveled road
at midnight in January,
with the temperature below zero,
dressed in insulated clothing and boots,
smoking a cigarette, as I run.
I did not dream after such a night,
after running the frozen road beneath the stars.

Magic girl …

I look at her face, I stare into her eyes.
She is there yet, the girl from long ago.
Her smile has dimmed only a slight degree,
but her face shows scars from tears,
a lonely expression there for all to see.

I sense her there, the girl from long ago,
I know she is she, and once she was for me,
but how do I know what is left inside her?
Is she magic still, or has life changed her?
Can a woman return, a magic girl to be?

Music Note: Listening to and sort of watching David Bowie ....
Specifically, the "Glass Spider" tour ....
(Third time in about four or five weeks .... why?)